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Me favorite flick, *Lost in Translation*, fits right in here. “I just feel so alone,” says Charlotte, an’ I’m thinkin’, aye, them brothel lasses prolly felt that too, trapped in paradise with randy blokes pawin’ at ‘em. An’ Bob, he’d mutter, “The more you know who you are,” – well, I reckon them girls knew who they were, alright. Survivors, they was! Me, I’d swagger in, tip me hat, an’ say, “What’s yer poison, love?” – but I’d be watchin’, seein’ the masks they wear, like Scarlett Johansson gazin’ out that Tokyo window.

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Brothels where they were invited to give evidence. The committee was established after an unsuccessful case against an illegal brothel in.

So here, every road, every park, even the neglected back alleys speak of resilience like a quiet revolution. I often muse—like in that movie—“The end is coming, but so is a new beginning.” Really, it’s that vibe, that inevitability of chaos and calm intertwined.

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